E-mail – zuffynuffy@yahoo.com

Rating – PG

Category –X-Files mytharc, humor

Spoilers - 2 Fathers/1 Son

Keywords - conspiracy

Written 5/99

DISCLAIMER: Yes, I am aware that the characters of Agent Fox Mulder, Agent Dana Scully, Diana Fowley, CSM, the Syndicate, Walter Skinner and such other references of the copyrighted X-Files are the sole property of its creator, Chris Carter, and its owners, 1013 Productions, and FOX television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. On the other hand, Xuffy is mine as are the images. So we're even.

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Preface

There has been much discussion about missing scenes from the episodes "Two Fathers" and "Biogenesis" and much speculation about how those scenes might have changed viewers' understanding of the mytharc. It has recently come to light that an entire episode was omitted in Season 6. We have obtained a copy of that script and present it here for your enlightenment. Our sources reveal that this episode should have come before the events in TwoFathers/OneSon, during the period when Mulder and Scully were still off the X-Files. Is it an accident that this episode was "lost"? A coincidence? I think not…

The Truth about Alien Hybrids

Special Agent Dana Scully tried to concentrate on the documents in front of her, page after page of financial data that she was organizing and entering into a spreadsheet. Her eyes kept dipping to the clock in the lower corner of the screen, a minute or two passing between each glance. Finally, she hit *Print*, then sat back and ran her fingers through her hair. At some point all those numbers were supposed to organize themselves into the truth.

"I hate this financial stuff," she muttered to herself. "Why can't they give this bit to the accountants?"

"Too boring for the accountants, Scully. This is special for us. Kersh makes sure we get the plums." Her partner slid into the seat next to her and drummed his fingers on the desk. He was wearing his suit jacket and she surmised that he had just walked in the door. Was she supposed to be grateful that he had shown up at all?

"Mulder, where have you been? We're supposed to leave for Chicago in an hour. You surely haven't forgotten the asphalt fraud case."

"Asphalt fraud, background checks, gambling rings. What next? This is hardly good use of our time or talents, Scully. Testing core samples from potholes to see if the asphalt is up to snuff? Give me a break."

"Major fraud, Mulder, someone has to investigate and we are it. I'm not having any more fun than you are. They are trying to drive us off. We can't let that happen." She pointed to the printer across the room. "Would you get that for me? We're going to have to run for the flight."

He looked up at the ceiling. "Throwing good taxpayers' money after bad."

"Mulder, we have to be on the plane. The Chicago team is going to meet us at O'Hare. Both of us. They'll report back to Kersh if you don't show."

"I have no intention of ducking out. There's actually a good reason to go to Chicago."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And that would be?"

He shook a piece of paper at her and smiled mischievously. "Got this on my email at home this morning."

She took the paper he was dangling in front of her, unfolded it, and read,

"Agent Mulder,

"I think you might be interested in what I have to show you.
Alien hybrids…there's something you need to understand. Meet
me at FAO Schwartz in Chicago, 3 pm tomorrow. I'll be the
voluptuous brunette in feathers and a red hat. Yours, Xuffy."

Scully looked up at him. "Voluptuous brunette in feathers? Aren't you a bit old, or a bit young, for that?"

"Obviously, it's some kind of code phrase." He took the paper from her hands and refolded it into his pocket.

"Mulder, it's some kind of prank. One of the crazies from those chat rooms you visit. Just think asphalt. Please."

Later that day in Chicago

Scully was sitting in the lab at the Chicago office huddled around a large table with three men in suits and another in a white lab coat. Arrayed on the table were fifteen or twenty numbered glass jars each filled with a black or gray substance. Detailed maps of the city's highway system hung on the walls, small colored pins indicating which contractors had repaved which stretches of road. A stack of photos of potholes, cracked pavement, and degraded shoulder had been pushed off to one side.

The lab technician directed the group's attention to a statistical table projected onto the wall. Item by item he discussed the chemical composition of the samples that sat before them, so much oil of such and such a quality, so much crushed stone, so much impurity, so much… Scully's mind wandered even as her hand continued to jot notes. Under the table her foot tapped against the linoleum. She glanced surreptitiously at the door every couple minutes and hummed to herself, C'mon, c'mon c'mon. Just as Calder, the technician, started on the fourteenth sample, Mulder opened the door and walked in looking pleased with himself. Switching quickly to his somber agent face, he leaned over her shoulder and spoke quietly.

"Agent Scully. Some significant information has come to light, would you mind following me?" She rose from her chair, feeling relief mixed with annoyance, and followed him into the hall. He was already ten paces ahead, trying the doors along the corridor.

"Mulder," she whispered loudly as she caught up with him.

"Shhhhh," he said and pulled her into an unoccupied room.

"Well, did you have a *voluptuous* afternoon?" She crossed her arms as he closed the door behind her. "You missed an exciting lecture on the history of asphalt. Also the economics of asphalt. And lots of grimy details on the local political scene. Want me to fill you in?"

"Actually, Xuffy never showed."

"That's a shame. May I say I told you so?"

"But I found this with my name on it." He pulled a plain brown envelope out of his inside jacket pocket and held it up before her. His name had been spelled out in letters cut from magazines. The "x" had an odd quality to it, as though it had been typed on one of those old typewriters that left distinctive little pits and bumps in each letter. Scully took it from him.

"And what have you found here?"

"Well, I thought we should look at it together. I knew you'd be as intrigued as I am." He smiled at her again and took the envelope back. Scully closed her eyes and sighed. Mulder removed the tape from the back of the envelope and slid a pen under the flap to rip it out. Reaching in, he pulled out a sheaf of photos and fanned them out on the table. They both looked down with astonishment.

"Mulder, if I'm not gravely mistaken, these are stuffed animals."

"On first glance, I might say you're right. Still, first glance is rarely enough." He leaned his tall frame over the table and spread them out, arranging them by subject.

Scully picked up one of the pictures. "Stuffed penguins mostly. Look here's one in a red hat. Nice and curvy, too, in its own way. You've been had."

Nonplussed, he picked them up one at a time and turned them over looking for clues. At the sound of steps in the hallway, he put his finger to his lips, moved to the door, and locked it. Scully was two steps behind him.

"Enough adventure for one day, Mulder. We need your profiling skills on the Asphalt King."

"Not clones. Three identical stuffed animals. Just look at them." Her voice rose a little with insistence.

"No, not look, *see.* Scully, you have to learn to see. They're *not* all the same. See the differences in the mouth, I mean beak, and the eyes. Clones or hybrids? If only I could get my hands on her." He stood back from the table, hands on hips, lost in thought. "My picture's in the background, right there. I think they've had me under surveillance."

Scully looked out the window and sighed, not quite believing that her partner could possibly take the photos seriously. "Look," she said, "stuffed animals are mass produced to meet the demands of the world market, which is, of course, dominated by American consumers. And American consumerism is tied in no small way to the preferences of children. Stuffed animals are big business. Thousands of penguins just like this were manufactured, probably in China, and undoubtedly shipped in huge cargo containers right here to Chicago."

"*Not* just like this. Look at this one." He had pulled a final photo or two from the envelope. "Does this look like your average mass production process? And this your average foreman?"